The Art of Seduction
by The-Future-Is-Now
Summary: Only those who are powerful can master the art of seduction. As Harry Potter weaves himself tighter into a web of darkness and betrayal, bitterness and love, he finds himself getting deeper and deeper into a world where happiness...Summary Inside. HP/LV
1. Ch 1: Choosing the Right Victim

**Summary: **Only those who are powerful can master the art of seduction. As Harry Potter weaves himself tighter into a web of darkness and betrayal, bitterness and love, he finds himself getting deeper and deeper into a world where happiness is miles away and treachery is very near. Can he save his friends as they fall apart before him? Can he stay loyal to his cause as allegiances break? Will he have to sacrifice everything in order to find true happiness? Find out. Dark. AU. Slash. Voldemort/ Harry.

**Disclaimer**: I want to make it known that I do not own any rights to Harry Potter I acknowledge that it is owned by J.K Rowling and do not aim to undermine her work. I only seek to entertain. I also acknowledge that I do not own The Art of Seduction by Robert Greens; I do not have any rights to that what so ever.

**Authors Note:** This story is AU, aka Alternate Universe. It is loosely based on The Art of Seduction by Robert Greene. In this story Harry Potter is James Potter's brother and the rest will be, well, in the story. This story is also Harry Potter/ Tom Riddle but with a few other relationships on the side. If you do not like slash, please do not read.

Now, on to the story!

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter One

Choosing thee Right Victim

_**Everything depends on the target of your seduction. Study your prey thoroughly and choose only those who will prove susceptible to your charms. The right victims are those for whom you can fill a void, who see in you something exotic. They are often isolated or at least somewhat unhappy (perhaps because of recent adverse circumstances), or can easily be made so- for the completely contented person is almost impossible to seduce. The perfect victim has some natural quality that attracts you. The strong emotions this quality inspires will help make your seductive maneuvers seem more natural and dynamic. The perfect victim allows for the perfect chase.**_

Green eyes silently watched the events that took place around them; they swept the dark room, with its graying walls, dusty, crude furniture (if a few wooden chairs could serve as any form of _comfortable_ furniture) and deliberately dim light. This room, this tenebrous room, was located in the dungeons of the unidentified castle. No one, however, paid any mind to the castle. They were too busy minding themselves.

A long line of young men and women could be seen making its way deeper into the chamber.

It was motley of adolescents with a hint of adults sporadically set about the line. Many were purebloods, some were half bloods. They all came from different families and most were related at one point or another. Some had never met each other, while others were good friends. Either way, whether they knew each other or not they were all of aware of themselves and those around them. And many of them, if not all did share one thing in common.

They all wore expressions of tremendous fear on their faces.

Cloaked figures whose faces were half hidden behind skeletal-like masks, watched wordlessly as the line moved forward. These neophytes, these beginners, were already learning the ways of the group. They were like robots that did as they were told. When commanded to move forward, they did. When glared at they immediately glanced down. When addressed, they immediately stood at attention.

They were learning to follow orders.

A dehumanizing process, which each and every individual signed for.

These masked men were once in there place, but those times were long forgotten.

They looked on; cognitively formulating whom was to be the most interesting victim of this ceremony. In their minds they ranked who would scream the loudest; who would bring the most pleasure to their ears. Said screams could be heard; everyone knew the process was painful, but that soul retching sound, that cacophonous shrill that cut through the ears was a constant reminder of what they would meet soon.

The emerald orbs allowed his eyes to wonder, and settled on the young man standing before him.

Death Eater's watched this emerald-eyed boy and his friend with great interest; great interest, indeed.

The subject of the green eyed mans observations was none other than Regulus Black. His coming had been an interesting upturn for the Death Eaters and their master, simply because he belonged to "the most ancient and noble house of Black." It was no secret that that family in question was powerful; there were rumors spreading that Hogwarts was not the only education they received. However, it was rather unfortunate that his brother, Sirius Black, had not decided to come along.

Regulus Black was handsome; even at that moment in time, when he should have had his legs buckling under his nervous weight, when his eyes (like all the others) should have rested firmly on the floor, he had his head lifted, and a hint of amusement playing on his face. His dark blue eyes held no mercy in their depths, and his face held every aristocratic feature one would expect from such a famous and rich lineage.

He stood in front of his friend, looking rather excited and impatient at the length of the process. It was his friend, though, that really caught everyone's attention.

What had first caught everyone off guard about this mysterious boy (for no one knew who he was) were his green eyes. They were not the average light, jovial green, or even dark, murky green that was common amongst such people. No, his eyes were luminescent, almost glowing in the dark abyss that was the chamber he was in. His face, well, his face was beyond words. It was difficult to describe what beauty that face held. Describing it would bring it no justice but it was as though angels, with their mastery in the arts of perfect, had carved his face out of clay. It was pale, as was the rest of him, but his dark jet black hair worked as the perfect contrast to the clear soft skin on his face.

He was not effeminate; his body, relatively tall, was lithe and muscular, a complementary combination for such an Adonis as him.

The masked men studied him clandestinely, allowing their eyes to wonder and rest, just for a moment on him, before escaping his trance, and looking on.

This young man stood out.

He, like his friend, stood tall and, like his friend, did not give the slightest hint of apprehension. As the line jumbled forward, he walked straight ahead, making his own path toward the thrown-like chair at the end of the room. His body language was impeccable; it stood tall, proud, and stood out from the room.

He seemed bored.

Screams could be heard reverberating across the walls. The Ceremony of Initiation was a dreadfully painful one, one more than one standard. Not many men had gone through the ceremony without screaming, even the strongest had fallen to the floor, whimpering and moaning in pain, begging for relief.

It was actually quite funny how these powerful were but mice before the great Basilisk that was to devour them of their character, of their human essence.

The Ceremony was an initiation and a first lesson. A Death Eater must learn pain. The full embodiment of pain distributed to yourself and another person. The suffering one must go through.

Everything.

_Screams_…so many _screams_.

_Begging_ for an end to this sadistic act.

It didn't really matter how many screams one heard. These same men who have now whimpered on the floor, who have begged for mercy, who had cried. These weak, incompetent men, who knew nothing of glory or power before they walked into the chamber.

They would become these masked men.

And they will be the ones wielding the wands.

The absolute _control_.

Soon they were shoved out of the way; and on came the next person. The next victim of this sadist-masochistic game that they were all a part of. The game they all enjoyed.

At the end of the room the recruits were commanded to stand in a straight line, horizontally, so all of them could face their new master.

One by one, each was handpicked by a Death Eater; usually the most scared looking person of the group. They would pick them, grab them behind their neck and shove them out of line. That same whimpering recruit would step up unto the platform and face the crimson red eyes of his new master.

His new _King._

They would look on at him, surprised but for an instant at the figure before them, sitting in the throne-like chair. The dark eyed man would be handsome, eerily handsome, in a way that caught them off guard.

Everything about him reeked power. He did not sit up in his throne, but casually lay back, as though the effort to produce an ounce of formality was beneath him.

And they would look at his eyes.

Those dark wine red eyes that burned a whole through their head. Once they looked, they _knew_, he could read their thoughts, their deepest secrets, and their hidden desires.

And then their eyes would become permanently glued to the floor.

And then the questionnaire would begin.

_Why are you here? _He would ask, aimlessly twirling his wand in his hand.

They would squirm.

_Be-because I believe in your ca-cause._ They would stutter, of course. These men were so trivial.

_How did you learn about us? _The question would be uttered, totally uninterested in the answer, but asking nonetheless.

_My father_. They would usually say.

Purebloods, half bloods, they all knew someone in their rank who had been here and had gone through the process they were going through now. For them, it was an honor to be considered a liberator of tainted blood. To join the Death Eaters.

By now, everyone knew of Voldemort.

This man who administered fear without so much as a _look_.

This man who reeked of _power_.

This man who was to rule them _all._

And finally, the last most important question of all.

_What do you think you can bring to the organization?_

Poor fools, they didn't know there answer would mean _so_ much.

After a while, silence would rein.

And the screaming would begin.

He wouldn't kill them, they had _some_ uses, but he would torture to the brink of insanity with just one flick of his wand.

It was the most difficult question, the most important one, because it meant whether a person would have been of actual importance to the Death Eaters. A man who could not provide a suitable answer was only fit for the lowest ranks, the ranks that were sent, not to kill, but to get killed. Voldemort wanted more valuable people in his elite group, which was so small in number.

They were so many insignificant people in the world.

After the Crucio spell had been lifted, after the loathly slug was left panting on the floor, the second wave of pain would begin.

As would the _screams._

Pain was so delicious to his tongue, so musical to his ears. Voldemort's body would prickle with pleasure at the clamor these creatures, these defiled human beings would make. There bodies would convulse so beautifully, submitting to him.

Slowly, Voldemort had made sure of this, the insignia, the snake traveling through a skull would appear on their arms.

Incredible.

The Dark Mark had been his design, his personal project of sorts. The pain along with the subservience it meant brought him complete pleasure.

It was so _fascinating._

And then the pain would end. And they would be dragged to another room adjacent to the Dark Lord.

Slowly the numbers dwindles, only leaving a few men, about seven, left.

At once Voldemort took note of the green eyed man.

He felt a thrill go up his spine at the idea of controlling him, this remarkable beauty, the defiant wizard. When he looked at his face, he felt relieved at the thought of having him close at hand.

But his face was insubordinate.

He was _smirking_ at him!

It was then that Voldemort knew he would have to battle this man, battle him for dominance, and battle him in order to _earn _his respect, his subservience.

He began with the others, leaving him for last.

Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape, Bellatrix Black; they were horse play; they meant nothing compared to _him._

Regulus Black was the last amongst the first to go before him. His blue eyes watched mischievously as the crimson eyed man began administering the questions.

"Why are you here?" Voldemort asked; his wand was twirling lightly in his hand. He looked entertained. Aside from the green eyed man, this Black was extremely fascinating to him.

"Because I agree with your purpose." Black replied, monotonously. Crimson eyes flashed at him. The boy knew how it worked; he knew this was only a nuisance question. For the first time in weeks, Voldemort actually felt like laughing.

This boy, the man, he was going to be one of his favorites.

Better watch him closely.

He nodded.

"How did you learn about us?" Through his family of course.

"My father, my mother; you're their favorite subject at dinner." The boy smirked; the green eyed boy behind him raised an eyebrow. A few muffled chuckles could be heard on along the sidelines. Voldemort narrowed his eyes but grinned slightly.

"And what can you bring to this organization?" Blue eyes glimmered, only for a brief moment, and then settled back into their dull abyss.

The boy seemed totally at ease.

"I can provide you three things." He paused. Voldemort motioned for him to continue.

"First, I can bring you allegiances. I have studied your organization and you are in desperate need of more warriors. I have befriended a man who can bring me more wizards and creatures than you could possible imagine."

Voldemort nodded. He would_ definitely_ be a favorite.

"Second, I can provide my talents. I am more than above my year and have taken the time to study more…interesting subjects than provided by my teachers. I have put some of my knowledge to work, but the other parts…aren't legal per se." Voldemort smirked at this.

"And lastly, I offer the allegiance of two more members who are close to Dumbledore, whom I know you do not share a liking for. They can give you information that would…put him down swiftly."

Voldemort looked him in the eye. The wine red eyes were relaxed, unsurprised in the least. He hid his intrigue well, but they both knew Voldemort was impressed. Never before had someone answered so well. He had Death Eaters who had promised more allegiances, other who had promised wealth and more power. But they were trifles.

And, aside from that, this man had something about him.

They stared at each other for quite sometime; Regulus surprised all by not letting down his gaze. Voldemort smirked.

"Good." Was all he replied.

And then a green flash erupted from his wand.

Regulus stood his ground, though with strain. His eyes glazed over as insignia penetrated his skin. His stoic expression stayed in place but all who stood before him knew he was suffering. The pain was violent; like a thousand knives penetrating not only the arm but the skin, the muscle, the bone beneath. It took all of his will power to keep standing.

And then it was over.

Regulus nodded towards Voldemort, and bowed, allowing himself to be pulled away by a Death Eater.

Voldemort was satisfied.

But, then came _him._

He had stood there, watching his friend, emerald eyes observing the scene before him without any expression. His eyes had drooped a bit, perhaps in boredom, but on closer inspection, they told a different story.

This man received _pleasure_ from watching his friend suffer.

They shared a common bond, those sadistic men.

He did not wait to be called; he stepped forward on his own accord. He knew he instigated interest in the older man. It was obvious by the way the Death Eaters gazed admirably at him, it was obvious by the way those damned crimson eyes stared at him unabashedly.

When he stood before Voldemort, he grinned.

Voldemort looked nonplused, but his eyes danced in delight as he gazed upon this young man. This presence before him was different than any he had ever been faced with; it was as though he were being challenged, mocked by a power that equaled his own.

Voldemort could sense his aura; it was ridiculously powerful, like his own. As the boy edged closer, Voldemort could see his aura, his dark shadow-like aura, flit around his body. It was as though silk waves were caressing him, inviting Voldemort to touch him, to feel the incredible power within.

He looked untouchable.

And Voldemort longed to touch him.

It seemed as though breaking this taboo would give him access to everything he would want from the boy. Touching him, feeling his skin against the young mans skin would break the tension between them.

They together could form such an unbeatable duo.

But that thought could not be pursued…yet.

It wasn't just his beauty but his being. He had an essence about him that was hard to miss. There was a quality in his eyes, in his expression that was rare to find. He looked so satisfying, so powerful. It was as though he were the embodiment of everything Voldemort wanted to find in another human being.

His almost equal.

His almost other half.

This young man did not look like he belonged to the Death Eaters. Giving him such a title would belittle him, tarnish him. He deserved more; he wanted to give the man more.

So much more.

But he would have to learn, and he would have to earn what he wanted to give him.

The young man was not fir for a Death Eater; he was fit to be a warrior.

His Death Eaters did not know the true meaning of battle; they found pleasure in fighting but did not see the honor in fighting an equal. These Death Eaters prayed on those who were weaker, who could not possibly beat them in battle.

Not this man.

He looked as though he would only battle the best.

In war, in love, in all.

Voldemort wanted to him completely; no one deserved this man but _him_.

"What is your name?" he asked, eyeing the boy. The green eyed man smirked.

"Harry Potter." He replied, titling his head slightly, looking at him curiously. Voldemort nodded, intrigued. He had heard much about the Potters; they were pure-blood and completely influenced by Dumbledore.

Except for _him_.

"The son of Constance and Darrius Potter? Distantly related to Godric Gryffindor?" Voldemort inquired, eyes gleaming.

"Very distant, considering." Harry grinned. Voldemort did not look amused.

"So tell me Mr. Potter...why are you here?"

"To join you." He replied, growing bored.

"And your friend Regulus told you about us?" Voldemort continued, ignoring the monotonous turn of his voice.

"He mentioned you, yes, but he did not stir my interest," Harry frowned. It was interesting watching him frown; his features seemed to darken, the once ambivalent light that presided on his face when he had grinned was replaced by shadows.

"What did, then?" Voldemort indicated for him to come closer. Harry did. He stood right in front of him, only a few inches away from his legs. He seemed totally undeterred by the change in position or the sudden interest in the conversation he was receiving.

"The corruptness in the world" He answered blatantly. Voldemort nodded, he understood.

"And what do you think you could bring to our cause?" he asked, interested in his answer.  
Harry was suddenly by his side, leaning toward him with a slight smirk dancing on his lips. Voldemort's expression was the same, but he was suddenly aware at the proximity of this boy. If he leaned forward ever so slightly, his lips would be on his.

He kept his distance.

Harry turned him head and whispered in his ear.

"_Everything_" he replied.

In Parselmouth.

Out of all the things he had assumed would happen, this was not one of them at all. Voldemort grabbed his arm as quick as lightening and muttered a spell, unlike the ones he had performed before.

Harry did not seem moved at all, he stood like a statue, taking the pain that was ten fold compared to that of the Dark Mark spell. He looked as though he were enjoying the pain.

His face was stoic, but his eyes drooped once more and his mouth was relaxed. He closed his eyes, smiling ever so slightly, the damned masochist, while the spell split his skin.

Instead of a snake going through a skulls head, a lion and a snake appeared on the arm, entwined against each other, looking fierce and untouchable. Just like its master.

Harry smirked, suddenly aware.

Voldemort held on to his arm longer than formality allowed and then slowly let go, never letting his eyes escape those green orbs.

"Thank you," Harry said, and walked away in the direction of the other recruits. Never looking back.

Voldemort smirked.

"You may leave me," he said to his Death Eater. They had watched as silent spectators, and now Voldemort was suddenly aware of their presence.

"Go deal with them," he ordered, and sat thinking on his chair whilst the Death Eaters walked into the other room.

He knew this young man would be difficult; he knew _his_ little warrior would be a challenge, but he also knew that now he had full access to the young man, he would have to come when he called.

The enchantment he had administered was unlike the others; this one allowed him to _see _what Harry saw, feel what Harry felt, whenever he wanted to. He wanted to learn about the boy, feel what he felt, live life through the eyes of Harry Potter.

Voldemort twirled his wand idly in his hand, consumed by his thoughts.

The man was magnificent, and filled with surprises. Voldemort wanted to claim him; he wanted to have that boy, mind, boy, and _soul. _

But he knew that man would not go down with out a fight.

He would battle, and he would laugh while he did.

Which was why it made it all the more gratifying.

Voldemort stood up and walked slowly out of the chamber and escaped the entrapment of the castle, allowing the night air to fill his lungs, to evaporate his thoughts. He looked at the moon, it was not full, but it was bright, and seemed to defy him as it stood above him, grander than he was, more important than he was.

Everlasting.

His thoughts shifted back to Harry Potter, as his plans formulated in his mind.

How would he get him? How will he succeed in winning the man to him completely.

He smirked. He would find a way. He _always_ found a way.

Let's the game of seduction _begin_.

* * *

Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter!

I'm warning you the next chapters coming up will **definitely** be much longer. This one works more like a prologue than the actual first chapter but it fit into the description of the Chapter in The Art of Seduction by Robert Greene called "Choosing the Right Victim."

Anyways I hope you enjoyed reading this story!

And review! The more reviews the quicker the updates!

~prongs-risque


	2. Ch 2: Creating a False Sense of Security

**Authors Note: **Hey everyone! Well, here it is! The second chapter as promised!

**Replies to Reviewers:**

_Dark Lady: Thank you! I hope you enjoy this chapter and the next to come!_

_T3ll m3 4 story: About every week :)_

_Soler: Thank you! That means a lot to me that you say that._

_TheSecretUchiha: I love that story! And thank you!_

**And to all the other reviewers thank you! Please keep on reviewing, it means a lot to me **

* * *

Chapter Two

Create a False Sense of Security

_**If you are too direct early on, you risk stirring up a resistance that will never be lowered. At first there must be nothing of the seducer in your manner. The seduction should begin at an angle, indirectly, so that the target only gradually becomes aware of you. Haunt the periphery of your target's life- approach through a third party, or seem to cultivate a relatively neutral relationship, moving gradually from friend to lover.**_

_**Lull the target into feeling secure, then strike.**_

Remus Lupin could not believe that anyone's tongue could work its way as deliciously over his body as his lovers did.

His eyes were closed but he could distinctively feel every single thing that wicked tongue did as it flicked and licked his exposed skin. Fine, soft hands moved their way up his under shirt, along his torso, softly playing with his perk nipples. Those deviant hands that moved with such precision, such excellent dexterity. Thos hands, and that tongue, would be the death of him.

Soon the tongue was removed from his naked body, causing him to groan, he wanted more. He could not possibly live another moment without that artful tongue, that useful muscle that caused him utter pleasure.

And then their tongues were engaged in an epic battle.

Each man was fighting for dominance, pressuring each other so that their bodies rocked back and forth, filling the space between them. Remus grabbed his lover's hair roughly, bringing him deeper into the dark abyss that was his eager mouth, his eager lips.

The hands, however, had not finished their job. Before he knew it, his shirt was off, revealing his tan, muscular skin. Revealing his scars. Revealing his secrets.

He did not acknowledge it, but his body, his imperfections, they were utterly magnificent.

He pounced his lover, attacking his neck with soft bites and harsh kisses, moving away the blockade that was his lover's shirt; practically ripping the linen from the other boy's body. Remus was addicted to his lover's skin. It smelled like nothing he had ever experienced before. He could practically taste his lover with not so much as a whiff. It was this smell, this intoxicating perfume that had begun this addiction, this relationship of hands and tongues.

Regulus Black, his lover, his _mate_, had the most admirable body he had ever seen, had ever tasted.

And dear Merlin, did it taste _good_!

Remus stood still, taking a brief moment to admire what was _his _and _his_ alone. That ridiculously flexible body that sent him into euphoria. The body of his lover; the body that made every waking moment more perfect than he had ever imagined.

And those hands!

He felt those smooth hands make their way _down_; before they could reach their destination he shoved the younger boy down to the bed, and once again captured his lips into the other boys own.

It was feverish, it was passionate, and it was expressed with every fiber of feeling Remus had within his soul.

Remus kissed his neck, kissed his jaw kissed everything within his reach. He licked his lover's nipples with deftness and over worn patience which caused the other man to moan. Remus smirked; he knew where Regulus was most _sensitive._

He kissed the younger mans stomach, worshipping the pale, lithe body of his lover.

He made his way _down_.

Regulus moaned as Remus hot breathes made contact with his growing member. He grabbed Remus hair, tightening his hold as the other mans tongue made contact with his skin.

He groaned in pleasure not allowing himself to see the chestnut haired man do wonderful things to him. If he did he knew he would cum, then and there.

But his _tongue_!

He shoved Remus down, which resulted in the other man grabbing his arse in a tight hold. He began bucking his hips as images flew past his mind. Regulus began imagining past nights. Those nights filled with heated passion, filled with utter desire.

Remus was too damn good!

And suddenly, in a moment of weakness he came; his breath hitched as the sour juices escaped him, slowly being sucked and swallowed by the other man. He body convulsed beautifully as tingles of pleasure spread up his spin and diffused to the rest of his body. He got up, leaned forward, and took the other mans lips into his.

Remus growled and shoved the boy, back facing him, on the bed and toyed with his arse.

"You liked being fucked don't you?" Remus huskily said, hands gripping the other boy's tight arse as he rubbed his member against the other boy's entrance.

"Yes!" Regulus whimpered, rocking his body along with the soft thrusts Remus made.

"You're my little bitch aren't you Regulus? You like it when I fuck you? You like it when I stick my cock up your arse you little whore?"

Remus said, rubbing his fingers against the boy's entrance as he grabbed his wand.

"Yes!" Regulus answered, turning his head back, looking slyly at the other man. Remus growled. He stopped rubbing his entrance, moistened his fingers, and stuck them in.

Regulus groaned, those talented fingers played with him, teased him to a point of utter helplessness. He wanted to grab the other man and shove him against his body.

"Fuck Remus!" he yelled as the man hit a tender spot. Remus chuckled darkly and grabbed the boy's shoulders, turning him roughly over.

"I want to see your pretty little face while I fuck you." He explained, grabbing the boys arse and lifting it a bit. He kept one hand placed firmly on the other boy and grabbed his member with the other hand, then slowly began to penetrate the boy.

* * *

Sirius leaned casually against his hand, watching the heavy sighs of the man sleeping next to him.

There was something a terrible beautiful about watching this man sleep. It was as though the sacred act of sleeping was left for his pleasure only; as though the watchful eyes of those around him could not possibly dare to look upon him in this seemingly helpless form.

It was strange, nonetheless, to see him in such a weak position. His observant eyes, the eyes that watched those all around him, had never seemed to rest; they constantly flitted about, watching and collecting information from the actions spurting about in his environment. His eyes were observers of the average lives of those around him; they're job was to collect, process, and infer.

It was only when he slept that his entire being seem to relax.

This sleeping man, this sleeping enigma, was sighing ever so softly in his sleep. His chest heaved in and out, carefully, slowly, as those each breathe was precious, life giving. Sirius smiled to himself, and took a moment to caress the pale cheek of his lover, watching as his lips parted slightly to release another sigh.

Sirius did not know when it had happened, but he knew he was utterly in love with Harry Potter.

When Sirius had stayed over the Potter's home during the summer before his second year, he had met Harry. Sirius had been good friends with his brother James, who was a trickster at heart and a perfect companion to the impish Black. They, Sirius and James, had agreed to spend the summer with each other, but little did Sirius know that he was going to encounter one of the most untouchable human beings he had ever met in his life.

Even at the tender age of ten, Harry potter had shown much potential.

He had been a calculating boy who liked to read and who spent most of his afternoons in the forest or in the library. The Potter had lived near a village that sat on the edge of a vast forest. Sometimes James and Sirius had to go (on Mrs. Potters orders) to go looking for the young Potter. They would usually find him amongst the plants, examining, and learning.

Although he seemed quite and quite frankly boring to the two jokesters, there was a hint of mischief in Harry's spirit that was begging to be let out, to roam free, to _live_.

Sirius had been the first one to see that.

As the years passed, Sirius began developing his friendship with James, quickly becoming his best friend. Harry had grown to like his presence and even considered him as a good friend of his. Sirius himself initiated what was to become an astounding relationship between the younger Potter and the youngest Black. The older man had known that his brother would have made the perfect friend for Harry, where Sirius could not possibly be a part of.

But Sirius had tried.

At first he began by trying to ease the boy into the subtle arts of mischief making. He had taught the boy everything he knew once he arrived at Hogwarts. From accomplishing perfect pranks to becoming an animagus, Sirius had taught Harry everything he knew in the hopes that he would release that untouched part of his soul.

Unlike Peter Pettigrew, who needed a series of training before even hinting at any acknowledgement, this boy knew how to pull of the perfect prank and keep a straight face.

But, in the end, the boy did not settle for practical jokes; only in a few instances had he done anything for show. Perhaps he was not interested in fooling around, but he did seem to know just when certain strange occurrences would happen.

Sirius sighed, eyes flitting away from the sleeping figure, adjusting to the dark around him as he positioned himself more comfortably in the bed.

Harry Potter was a conundrum; a puzzle with many missing pieces, and other pieces that did not seem to fit together at all. When he had thought he had found out something, a hint of a promise, about the younger man, it was instantly proven wrong or much more complex than what he could ever believe at all.

He knew he meant something to Harry, but he also knew that, come tomorrow, this same man who had slept so peacefully in his bed, without any shame, would treat him as though this relationship did not exist.

Sirius Black did not lie to himself; he was completely aware of the fact that Harry potter did not love him. It was a fact he had liked to keep in the back of his mind; a fact he ignored when those bright green eyes happened to glance his way. But he knew the fact could not be ignored.

Harry Potter was not interested in relationships. Or so he put on.

AT Hogwarts, at Hogsmeade, everywhere men and women seemed to feel a magnetic pull towards this man. They would senselessly flirt with him, or simply drop a small hint. Whether the approach was blatant or not, the young Potter boy did not seem interested in either one of the approaches. In fact, except for himself, Sirius was unsure whether Harry had any other sexual relationships.

Perhaps it was a fear of entrapment, or perhaps it was a genuine dislike for true intimacy; either way Sirius knew that the only place he had in Harry's heart was that of a good friend, an appreciated someone in his life.

And even that irked Sirius a bit.

He did not deny that he was slightly jealous of his brother.

Regulus Black had achieved what Sirius could only dream of possible. He had successfully gotten into the heart and mind of Harry Potter and, in doing so, became the best friend Harry could have ever possibly wanted.

Harry and Regulus had come on aboard the Hogwarts express during their brothers second year. They had known of each other vaguely, through snippets and hints in conversations overheard from their brothers. It was only when they were both in the same compartment, and later the same Hogwarts House that they truly began to know and understand one another.

Both were extremely intelligent and determined in nature. They both worked as contrasts to their brothers who had been sorted to Gryffindor whilst they had been destined for Slytherin.

They were both silent and mysterious; having a certain air about them that made them popular very soon, with much speculation from the students.

They were inseparable and if given the opportunity they would fight to the death for each other. It was the kind of friendship that ran deeper than blood, deeper than a brother hood. It was as though they were two separate strands of the same soul that, although not sexually intimate, still thought and felt for each other as though they were.

Above all things, Sirius wished he had that relationship with Harry.

* * *

Regulus wrapped his body around Remus as the older man thrust into him, driving the black haired man senseless.

"My. Little. Bitch." Remus cried, feeling himself go, feeling the sweet juices erupt from his being, flowing. Regulus, not being to far behind, thrust his arse deeper into Lupin and submitted to his body.

Remus gave a few final thrusts and then slumped unto the bed.

Although his breathing was harsh and his face was beet red, Remus Lupin looked extremely satisfied. He pulled the still kneeling man towards his and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips.

"You know I love you right?" he asked, looking into the blue eyes of his lover. Regulus shifted his position. His face was sweaty and utterly brilliant in the dim light. Remus began rubbing light circles against his arm, his thigh, his legs.

Regulus smirked.

"Yeah, that and you can't get enough of this arse." Remus laughed, shaking his head.

"True but I do love you," Remus admitted, snuggling closer to the younger man. He knew that this kind of talk put off the younger man a bit, even if he did feel the same way.

"Yeah, yeah, I love you too." Remus smiled, his eyes closing.

They feel asleep within seconds.

* * *

Harry Potter woke up, running his hand roughly over his head.

Every morning since his initiation it had been like this. He would wake up with an intolerable headache pounding against his skull. It would leave him disoriented and weak, but he had managed to get used to it. The problem though was that no matter how many Pepper Up Potions he would drink, the insufferable pain would not go away.

He looked about him, allowing a moment for his eyes to adjust to the blaring light that seeped through his curtains. His eyes lingered on the sleeping form next to him; Sirius Black.

Harry sighed; he knew he shouldn't have fooled around with him.

In truth he had felt pity for the oldest Black heir. He had known that the man had wanted him for years and he had hoped that satisfying his apparent lust would have put him out of his misery. Unfortunately for Harry, it only fueled his system.

Harry admitted that Sirius was an excellent lover; that must was undeniable. But he did not want the relationship to escalate or become more for the older Black than it would ever be to him. In the few months that they had become intimate, Sirius had become more affectionate.

Harry hated it.

The exact thing that he was hoping to get rid of was escalating before his very eyes. It was going to be difficult to break ties with the man but Harry knew he had to do it soon.

He got up quietly as possible, without waking the sleeping man, and went down the hall into the bathroom. He began filling the tub, watching as the clear liquid filled the tub. He slowly removed his clothes and threw them unto the floor, languorously putting one foot into the tub, then the other, and eventually his entire form.

Today was going to be an eventful day.

Harry turned the knob and stopped the flowing liquid, laying his head against the head rest on the tub. He closed his eyes, and allowed himself think without distractions.

He needed to go into the forest and speak to his friend.

Harry opened his eyes and grabbed a bar of soap, enjoying the soft trickle of water beads as they descended his arms and landed on the small pool of water. He took pleasure in rubbing his body with the violet smelling soap, engorged himself in the act of teasing his sensitive skin.

He smiled as he did this while thinking about his so called, "friend."

Was it wise to be friends with werewolves of that sort?

* * *

_He was standing in a foreign room; candle lights were on but they paled significantly to the fire that was blaring in the fireplace._

_In front of this fireplace was a large chair. He could not see much from the angle that he stood at, but he could make out a pale hand twirling a wand on the arm rest._

_The wood cackled as the fire made its way to its core._

_Harry walked up to the man, unafraid of the consequences._

_He already knew what to expect._

_This should be a dream Harry thought as he approached the chair, it had the feeling of a dream._

_But Harry knew it wasn't._

* * *

Sirius woke up, he felt totally rested. He stood on his elbows, half-hoping to find Harry sleeping, to find him in his innocent bliss. But he knew he wouldn't be there.

And sure enough, he wasn't.

* * *

_Harry stood next to the chair, priding himself in successfully guessing who was there, twirling his wand._

"_So, you've been fiddling with my mind." Harry stated. He looked at the man before him, watched as his eyes blazed, reflecting the fire he was so attentively observing. The man in question looked serene, so unlike his usual manner that it took a moment for Harry to realize exactly what situation he was in. This man looked so human; it was impossible to believe that he was the Dark Lord._

"_Perhaps," Voldemort replied, engrossesed in watching the flames burn. Harry looked at the flames as well. _

_It was amusing, watching the fire. Harry watched as the fire danced in its cage. The magnificent power of fire, something so trivial in such small proportions, was unbelievable. One touch of this element would burn the skin and shock the senses. One simple flame could destroy a house; a giant edifice would come tumbling down if one match burned. And yet in this situation, in this room, it was controlled, disciplined to stay in that hole in the wall._

_Just dancing._

_Never underestimate anything, no matter what its proportions._

"_I've been getting headaches recently, is that your doing?" Harry inquired, tearing his eyes from the fire. He could see a faint smirk appear on the older man's face._

_And then it was gone._

"_Side effects of a power Legilimus spell," he replied, abruptly looking bored._

_Harry remained silent._

"_I see you have friends in high places." Voldemort began. Oh, the power of insinuation._

"_Yes." Harry knew what he was getting at. He stood his ground, watching the Dark lord with dull eyes. He did not like the idea at all of this man poking through his mind. Every thought, every idea, every conversation, everything he experienced was now open for the Dark lord to watch, without hesitation, as though he were simply viewing a show._

_It made Harry angry._

_He did not have anything to hide, but he was an introverted human being, with only a few people he held worthy of admitting himself to. He hated the idea of having Voldemort knowing every dark secret, every terrible thought, accessible without so much as a flinch._

_Without his consent._

"_What do you plan on doing?"_

"_I want to see their opinion of you, then move on and begin recruiting more familiar people like Remus Lupin a werewolf himself and Sirius Black, Regulus's brother."_

_Voldemort nodded._

_Harry felt slightly uncomfortable; but hid it well. It annoyed him that this man had an abundant amount of knowledge about him in his grasp, and he did not even have the decency of looking at his eyes._

_Suddenly question struck him._

"_Why did you do this to me and not anyone else?" Harry asked._

_Voldemort smirked._

"_That will be all."_

* * *

It took Harry a moment to realize he was underwater.

His head shot up quickly to the surface. He gasped for air, sitting straight and clutching his chest, feeling slightly dizzy.

"Basterd." He muttered to himself before leaning his head back against the tub, closing his eyes. He coughed a bit and began to rub his temples as he felt the familiar pang of a headache approach.

All due to Voldemort's interest in him.

Voldemort was a mystery; he had not only chosen to not look at him but the Dark lord had also decided not to answer a single question Harry asked. Harry hoped Voldemort was tuning into his brain now; the amount of curse words aimed at the older man would make a sailor blush.

"Insufferable basterd." He muttered, angry and annoyed.

He stood up, dried himself quickly, no longer enjoying the one pleasure he gave himself. Harry got dressed and prepared for the long day ahead.

* * *

The young Black heir was patiently sitting at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee. Remus had left early. Apparently, today was going to be the day he would get a job. He and Sirius had left together, Remus looking hopeful and Sirius looking troubled. Regulus had shrugged it off; he didn't care to get into his brother's affairs.

He was, however, worried about Remus.

Remus Lupin had the credibility of a great scholar in the Defense against the Dark Arts. Not only had he trained to be an Aurora (much with the help of Dumbledore) but he had also a good personality that helped him get along with a lost everybody.

But, of course, werewolves were vicious creatures that where not allowed to even _think_ of working. I mean, Regulus thought, how could it be allowed that they could even be kept _alive_?

Regulus sipped his coffee, trying his very best to control the temper that was aching to burst.

It hurt Regulus that this man was so eager to do justice to the world that had forsaken him. Ever since the day he had graduated, Remus had persistently looked for a job. At first he put his aspects as high as he could, going to the Ministry of Magic to work in the Aurora department.

They had shot him down.

He then began looking for teaching positions. An experienced young man could do a lot in the educating field; helping students appreciate what they were learning and enjoy the job himself.

Utterly declined.

Now, after looking through every possible job area within his field, he had settled for working anywhere that would accept him.

No thank you.

I'm sorry but we are not accepting workers.

This must be a joke!

Don't be foolish, you'd never be allowed here.

What did you say you're condition was again?

Ha! You're in for nothing sonny boy!

Get your disgusting arse out of my shop!

Regulus sipped his coffee.

That would all change soon.

Part of the reason why he joined the Death Eaters was for Remus. He knew Voldemort had a penchant for dark creatures, and if everything went well, werewolves would soon have a new place in society.

It was all a matter of patience.

Harry entered the kitchen, looking refreshed and clean in his bathrobe. He made himself a cup of coffee and sat in front of Regulus.

"Good morning brother." He said smiling, putting his cup down on the table. Regulus smirked at the title and ceased his sipping frenzy.

"You know…you should consider those silencing charms you learned." Regulus said, looking slyly at Harry. Harry looked perturbed for a moment, before smirking maliciously.

"Ha! As if you should talk! 'Oh Remus!'" Harry mimicked in a shrill voice.

Regulus blanched.

" 'More! Yes! I'm your bitch!'" Harry laughed, clutching his stomach.

Regulus looked faint. Harry continued laughing.

"Be thankful your parents weren't here last night." Harry grinned, taking a gulp from his mug.

"They won't be here for quite sometime, apparently my father took mother on a surprise trip," Regulus stated, relieved at the change of subject.

"Where?" Harry asked.

"Australia, France, Italy, Spain; wherever she desires." Regulus replied. He took a gulp from his cup, all he got was air. He prepared himself another cup.

"What are your plans for today?" he asked from the kitchen.

"I'm going to visit my werewolf friend." Harry said conspiratorially, watching him from his chair.

Regulus nodded.

"How's he doing?"

"I'm not sure," Harry said frowning. "It's been a while since we've corresponded."

Regulus grabbed his cup and sat down in from of him.

"Well," he said, smacking his lips, "send him my best."

"Ha! I'm sure he would appreciate that." Harry smirked, standing up, leaving his coffee unattended. Regulus grinned.

"Hey! It worked out for the best in the end."

Harry chuckled.

"Yeah…in the end."

* * *

Harry sat on the grassy mound that stood in front if the Evergreen Forest and waited.

He summoned his powers and called to the forest. He listened to the wind, feeling the electric sensation of the Nature.

Every sound was pronounced to him; he heard the thud of the woodpeckers, the squiring of the squirrels, and the thuds of the larger animals that dwelled within.

He listened carefully for the forest denizens, feeling the Nature and his power relax into a state of compliance, of companionship.

He felt guilty; he had missed this place. It was the only place in the world that seemed to truly relax him, a place that almost felt like a real home.

He hoped he could still call it home after all these months.

He waited, patiently, calmly, as he listened to the language of the wild.

Harry let the Nature flow.

The Nature was a branch of magic, a kind of string of power that extended to all that was nature. Trees, animals, elements in general were all attached to one another threw a slim string. This single string was an extension of magic, light magic, that was powerful, very powerful, and extremely difficult to yield.

Only some wizards had mastered aspects of the Nature. Animagus's, parselmouths, and werewolves had all taken a piece, a small piece, of that string and added it to their own magical core.

Harry had, with the help of his werewolf companion, taken a larger piece than the average wizard.

Harry Potter could speak to animals, all animals, and could transform into certain types at will. With the help of his friend, he had been able to listen to the forest, like most werewolves could, and_ feel_ what was happening within its tree's.

Werewolves held a certain power over the Nature that wizards could not possibly dream of possessing.

Perhaps it was because they were human and animal; thus having the ability to understand what they were experiencing and use their own magic to manipulate this trait. Perhaps it was simply because they themselves were controlled by the Moon, which was supposed to be one of the strongest magical aspects of the Nature, the divine Moon had a kind of control over the earth that even the greatest of werewolves were unsure of.

It was all speculation of course, but through the werewolves Harry had learned about this magic, and he had used it.

Now, though, the Nature would not be able to help Harry. What he needed in order to get Voldemort out of his head was a more complex, more serious form of magic.

The Divinity.

The Divinity controlled magic that dealt with human emotions, the mind, and magic used throughout the wizarding world. Although it was used much more often than the Nature by wizards it was debatably the most difficult to use.

If Harry could harness the Divinity, Voldemort's access to his mind would be but a trivial matter.

Harry hoped his werewolf friend would help him with that.

He tensed. He heard footsteps approach his area.

Fenrir Greyback had sensed his presence.

Out of the forest curtain of branches and leaves, a tall, muscular man could be seen making his way to the center of the valley. His face was tan and made up of strict lines that left no room for wrinkles or soft features. He had scars; in fact his body seemed to be composed of them, but one scar that came down from his forehead to the bottom of his jaw, through his eye; that one was the most remarkable of all.

Harry never learned how he got that scar, but he knew that he had gotten it when he had fought against a wizard.

His body was a perfectly sculpted form of muscle; as though he were a human made of marble with the ability to become flexible. From his silver haired head, to his feet he was a perfect picture of a Spartan warrior. He did not look like he belonged to the forest…he looked like he belonged to a battle field, amongst blood and dirt, and death.

His eyes were silver-grey, like that of metal; and they turned cold as they turned their gaze to the green eyed man.

He approached Harry, his legs taking long strides against the green earth.

Fenrir looked extremely angry.

Harry stood up, meeting the other mans eyes.

"Hello Fenrir." Harry said when he reached him.

Fenrir looked horrifically powerful compared to Harry. Although Harry prided himself in being physically strong and relatively tall for a wizard he could not help but feel hopelessly weak when standing next to this Titan of a man. Fenrir looked terrible when calm, but now he seemed vicious.

Fenrir looked at him, taking in every detail of his body. It made Harry extremely uncomfortable, seeing as how Fenrir was completely naked and Harry was fully clothed.

He had already broken a rule.

Once a person is considered a member of the pack, they must follow the rules given by the pack leader. Although Harry himself was leader next to Fenrir, he had to follow all the rules he gave along with those Fenrir elicited.

One of them was never divulge in human materials.

Harry was human and he prided himself in being fully human, but in the presence of a pack member he had always followed that rule.

Fenrir looked even angrier than before.

"Harry." He said his voice rough, menacing. Harry wondered what to do next, he took the initiative.

"Look I'm sorry I haven't seen you-

Fenrir was not in the mood for words.

Out of no where Fenrir's hands were ripping of his clothes, demeaning him and his status in every possible way. He shoved the younger man to the ground, grabbing his pants, and ripping them with a kind of sadistic satisfaction. Harry gasped as he saw his clothes shred before him, as though incredibly powerful arms destroyed his possessions.

Fenrir grabbed the heap of clothes and threw them to the side.

He stood up, walked to the disgraceful heap and urinated on his clothing.

Harry blanched.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he screamed, rising to his feet. In no time Fenrir was in front of him, shoving him to the ground, beating him.

Harry punched and kicked, not allowing himself to be weakened by the obviously stronger man. He punched his face, causing the other man to bleed considerably, but that minor victory was nothing compared to the rebound punch he got.

His nose was bleeding, a river of blood descended his nose, entering his mouth, letting the bitter taste of iron attack his tongue.

"Argh!" Harry yelled, biting down on the arm that delivered the punch. He took a considerable amount of skin of the werewolf, but it was no use, the other werewolf was already standing before him, kicking him in the stomach.

Harry grabbed his leg and punched his groin.

Fenrir collapsed on the ground, the impact of Harry's punch was painstakingly strong. Fenrir watched as Harry gathered all of his strength in a single punch, delivering it to the other mans jaw.

Fenrir turned his head just in time, causing the other man to lose his balance. Perfect.

Fenrir shook off the pain and delivered a knee kick to Harry's stomach before he could straighten himself up.

Harry fell to the ground.

The sun blazed on their bodies as their forms continued to fight. Each man was letting go of every single ounce of anger, of frustration that had gone unnoticed in the past five months.

Their skin was burning from the heat of the sun; sweat flowed freely from their bodies. Blood mixed with sweat, punches made contact with skin, jagged breathes could be heard as both of these men fought to the end.

It wasn't until many hours later, when the sun was about to be replaced by the moon, that they finally ended their battle.

Harry gave up first. He was tired and aching horribly. His back, his stomach, his legs, his arms, his face, everything had a fresh wound on its surface. He gave up because he was tired, but he also gave up because he knew he deserved every single punch and kick that was delivered to him.

He landed on the floor with a soft thud and did not make a move to get up. Fenrir followed suit when he saw Harry did not want to fight any longer.

They had not spoken since the beginning of their fight; now they had two options, either stay silent or discuss their issues.

Fenrir seemed to like the first one.

Harry would have none of that.

"Fenrir," he began, his voice scratchy from disuse. It didn't help that at one point Fenrir had grasped his throat in an iron grip, "I really am sorry."

Fenrir kept his silence, watching the skies as they shifted colors. Red and green, along with blue, purple, and pink all intermixed in the afternoon sky. It was a truly beautiful spectacle.

"You should not have joined him." Fenrir said after a while, his voice harsh and unforgiving. Harry sighed, feeling defeated.

"I did it for many reasons. One of them being I wanted to help our clan," Harry said. Fenrir did not move. He lay their on the ground, thinking.

Suddenly Harry stood up and began searching for his wand. He searched everywhere, finally finding it a few feet away from his desecrated clothing. He used it to heal himself, but even then he knew he would be aching for weeks.

He paused, he wanted to heal Fenrir but he knew the other man did not like the use of wands.

"Just do it," Fenrir muttered, sensing Harry's apprehension, he did so. When he finished he gazed around at the mess they had created.

Blood and even some pieces of skin could be seen on the grass floor. It was a strange paradox; beautiful serene scenery coated with the results of what could be deemed a massacre.

Harry chuckled at the thought.

"Listen Harry," Fenrir suddenly said, sitting up. Harry looked at him curiously.

"I don't care what you do out there; what I do care about is how you treat our pack. It took me a lot of time to get used to the idea of having a second Alpha only for you to suddenly leave and come back at random." Harry nodded; he felt guilty.

"Your part of our pack, hell your head of our pack, do not disappoint us." Fenrir stood up and held out his hand. Harry took it firmly and allowed himself to be lifted up by the Alpha; his Alpha.

"It won't ever happen again."

"It better not."

Harry stayed silent for a moment, sensing the apprehension build again. He decided to deviate the conversation to something less….choleric.

"Now," said Harry, "what's been going on in my absence."

Fenrir looked at him with an ironic smirk planted on his face, as though Harry's absence had been a catalyst to many things, but also nothing as well.

"A lot of things Potter, a lot of things."

* * *

They had been walking through the forest for what seemed like hours. Harry's legs were growing tired; is already aching limbs cried out in pain as he dodged branches and walked over little mounds of earth and rock that appeared on the forest ground.

All he wanted to do was rest.

Minutes flew by, becoming ceaseless hours that mounted more weakness unto his body. He could have kissed the ground when Fenrir finally stopped, stating that they had reached their destination.

"A few weeks ago, I and a few pack members were hunting. We saw a man here, in a cloak, writing this message on to the trunk," Fenrir explained, pointing to a tree a few feet away.

The tree was rather large, and engraved in its bark was a strange message.

"Mefiez-vous qui vous barboter avec." Harry read, eyes falling on Fenrir. The werewolf shrugged.

"Did you see his face?" Harry asked, laying a hand on the tree trunk. He could not sense any dark magic in play there; if anything it was just a simple message.

Strange.

"No, it was to dark and his hood covered his face." Harry nodded and turned to him. The older man was watching him, but Harry could tell his mind was working diligently.

"We also found this in our camp grounds," Fenrir held out his hand. Within his palm was a piece of torn parchment and on it was an insignia made up of intricately woven lines that, if examined closely, made up a kind of smirking face. It resembled some of the woodland creatures that lived in the forest, but Harry knew for certain it could not be one of them.

None of them were this intelligent.

"But why this tree though?" Harry wondered aloud.

"I though about that to…until I realized exactly what this spot was"

Harry looked at him.

"What is so special about this tree?" Harry asked.

"This is the place were I initiated you into the pack."

* * *

Harry arrived at the Black household in the middle of the night.

Although he could tell most of its occupants were probably asleep, he took great care not to be seen. His clothes were long forgotten in the valley, and his hands could only cover so much.

He quickly made his way up the stairs, taking great care not to make to much noise so as not to wake up the household. He went into the nearest bathroom and took a quick bath, feeling completely satisfied when the water hit his chest, cascading down his arms and legs, releasing some of his tension.

He quickly dried himself and dressed, making his way into the room that he shared with Regulus. It was to dark to see but soon his eyes adjusted to the lack of light and he could faintly make out the dark outline of his slumbering best friend.

Harry gratefully lay down in his bed.

He snuggled under the covers, closing his eyes as the warm blankets made contact with his skin. He had not allowed himself to think too much on his journey here; he had hoped through that he could avoid Voldemort's knowledge of the happenings in the forest, at least for a while.

He cursed under his breath, remembering that he forgot to mention the Divinity to Fenrir.

He made a mental note to mention it to him next week, when he would see him again in the valley.

He let his thought's take hold.

He needed to find out what the message meant and even more so he needed to find out what the insignia represented. Harry had access to the Black library but he knew that would not be enough. He had guessed that the language had been French and could easily find a translation anywhere, but to look for the insignia would be a difficult feat all together.

Harry sighed, wanting more than anything to just sleep. Even the simple pleasure of slumber seemed too difficult for him. Everything in his life was so _difficult._

Oh well.

He closed his eyes and began drifting into a dreamless slumber.

Let tomorrow bring its challenges.

* * *

Ok! Second chapter! Yay!

Well, this chapter was pretty long, if I do say so myself! I'm pretty satisfied with it, and I'm hoping you guys are too.

As far as the third chapter goes, that will be updated in about two weeks. I'm really sorry but I have exams for the next two weeks and need as much study time as I can get. I promise though that I'll write in between study sessions and will present you with a looooooong chapter!

Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this. Please leave a review and tell me what you think.

**Question: What do you think of Harry/Fenrir? Would you like to see more intimate things? Any questions, comments, or concerns?**

Leave a review and tell me what you think!


	3. Ch 3: Send Mixed Signals

**Authors Note**: Hello everyone! Yes I know…I've been terrible, evil, horrendous, all those nasty words that describe an author who does not update periodically. I'm REALLY REALLY sorry I haven't been updating, my personal life has been on the haywire but have no fear! I'll try to update sooner than I have been and hopefully you'll enjoy the gritty stuff that'll be coming your way.

**Reviews: **Thank you all for your reviews! And yes this story will be continued, I guarantee it.

_VMLynn400488_: To answer your question no Harry did not travel back in time in this story he was born as James' brother.

_ImmortalVirtues__:_ Harry's part in the pack will be revealed very soon and as far as Voldemort's mind reading powers go, he can basically read Harry's thoughts at will, without stress of legilimens. The rest of your questions, you'll just have to see. :-p

_EmeraldSolitude_: Thank you for pointing out the mistakes. I looked back and realized I had so many grammar errors. I do have a friend who is my beta as of Chapter Two but thank you for offering

_Lilaclavender__:_ Very observant about Harry's personality

As for everyone else, thanks you so much for your reviews! It means a lot to me.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Three

Send Mixed Signals

_**Once people are aware of your presence, and perhaps vaguely intrigued, you need to stir their interest before it settles on someone else. What is obvious and striking may attract their attention at first, but that attention is often short-lived; in the long run, ambiguity is much more potent. Most of us are much too obvious-instead, be hard to figure out. Send mixed signals: both tough and tender, both spiritual and earthly, both innocent and cunning. A mix of qualities suggests depth, which fascinates even as it confuses. An elusive, enigmatic aura will make people want to know more, drawing them into your circle. Create such a power by hinting at something contradictory in you.**_

It is not uncommon for a vermin, a black sheep, a complete failure to spring from a good family. In fact, it is to be expected. Every generation has its abnormalities; whether the good produced a criminal or the bad produced a saint, it was something to be expected and in some cases it was something to be hoped for.

Dumbledore had waited for this to occur- unfortunately it could not have come at a worse time.

At the moment the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was feeling slightly apprehensive. The youngest of the Potter boys had graduated from his school not four months ago and so had left the domain of the ever observant blue eyes.

Dumbledore had watched the boy the moment he had arrived on the platform leading to the school grounds. He saw the young quiet, intelligent boy grow into an even quieter, more intelligent young man. He paralleled Tom Riddle's student life, having a select few for company, yet somehow becoming popular and even worse becoming well known and praised by wizards and witches who lauded the growing Dark Lord's ideals. This had sent out warning signals in Dumbledore's mind, but he had ignored them, attributing everything to sheer coincidence for there had been no sign that the boy had any actual interest in the Dark Arts to begin with.

And yet…the boy grew older, and it was unmistakable that in his last two years at Hogwarts he was dabbling in the dark arts. He was too cognizant, too attentive, and too silent.

The boy's admirers grew at an alarming rate during those years. After his "fall from grace" from his family and immediate "adoption" from the Black household-well, everyone seemed idolize him. The Slytherin house worshipped the ground he walked on and an astounding number of Ravenclaws, even Gryffindors, wanted to be in his circle of friends. The Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors that didn't like him were large in number, and there were many students of each household who simply ignored both extremes and the boy altogether- but the fact remained that there was a fascination for the boy, one that could potentially lead to an unfavorable outcome in the evident war. There was no sign of it, there was no hint of anything unnatural, but Dumbledore was wise enough to know that this was the eye before the storm, and that young Potter boy was going to make it very difficult to fight such battles

Dumbledore shook his head in dismay, he had a sudden attack of fatigue; everything was becoming increasingly difficult. There was much to worry with that young Potter boy.

* * *

Harry Potter and Regulus Black joined the group of masked men in what seemed to be a lobby room and waited patiently. The room was deathly silent, except for a few whispers. Fear was in the air, filling one's nostrils with a foul smell that suffocated the lungs. The two men in question looked around the room in interest, then, quietly, settled themselves into the farther corner of the room, taking the liberty to sit on two comfortable looking chairs.

"I like this arrangement," Regulus said, smirking. Harry grinned.

"Yes, it's an improvement from standing in line, against sweaty bodies." Regulus made a face.

"I swear, had I been longer in line, I would have cruciod the boy in front of me, he was positively reeking!" Harry laughed.

"So ridiculous." Regulus scoffed. Harry took the time to look around.

They had been called by the Dark Lord, and from what they could see, they were once more in the mansion that they had occupied during their first initiation to the Death Eaters ranks. The room however, was quite different from the last. It was well furnished, displaying taste and care in the furniture and selection to detail. The theme of the room was obviously chosen to cause a disturbance in one's emotional peace; the walls were dark green lined with a murky beige, and the furniture was dark, flirting with black yet still managing to be considered dark brown.

No weapons of torture or portraits of despair need be displayed there; the ambience was dark and haunted, as though at any moment an inferi may attack.

It did not seem to bother the two former Slytherins at all.

However, the same could not be said for the other Death Eaters.

Everyone, everyone meanings hardly ten people, was standing, taking great caution not to touch any object or furniture within their reach. It was as though they feared they would be cursed if they did so. No one was without a mask, perhaps they thought hiding their identities would save them from sudden doom.

Harry looked at his companion. Regulus caught his eye.

"What do you suppose this is for?" he asked, adjusting his mask onto his face. The mask itself was of the most powerful magical qualities, once adjusted, it stuck to the wearers face in such a way that it could only be pulled off by the wearer himself or his Master.

No one -_ever_- wanted Voldemort to pull off their masks.

It automatically meant death at his hands.

Or worse.

Harry shrugged and looked around, putting his mask neatly in place. His green eyes were bright and observant; he was thinking.

"Knowing Voldemort" he replied," and seeing exactly who is here, I am supposing it's a test." Regulus nodded and turned, wordlessly watching the other Death Eaters in the room as well.

The ten arrivals were scattered into cliques and although they wore masks, the men's association with some of the Death Eaters made them easy to recognize. Bellatrix Black, the salacious cousin of Regulus Black; Lucius Malfoy, another distant relative to the Black Family and a close friend; Severus Snape, an old school companion of Harry's who he had spoken to quite often; and Rodolphus Lestrange, another pureblood, who they knew from social gatherings and school.

The boys glanced at each other, and mutually smirked.

"The gang is all here." Regulus said in a singsong voice. Harry's glance lingered on Malfoy's face before settling itself back to Regulus, he smirked.

"Let's see what Voldemort makes of them." Harry remarked.

"And of us." Regulus corrected.

Harry raised an amused eyebrow.

"You doubt yourself?"

"Not entirely," Regulus replied, "however knowing Voldemort, it will not be something pleasant."

Harry smiled.

"The road to success is never easy, my brother."

* * *

Remus sniffed the air.

He followed his senses, and walked among the wolves.

The afternoon light was departing quickly, and it was with sheer luck that he had gone this far into the forest without harming himself or finding someone who wanted to harm him.

He shook his head and treaded on.

It has been almost two years since he had come to this forest; two years since the incident with his wolf pack and the subsequent consequences. The fact that he was walking through the forest proved how brave he was.

And how stupid.

It was debatable.

Remus had a lot to thank Harry for; had it not been for him, Remus would not have come out of the situation alive, but it was not time to feel sentimental.

He had a goal to complete, a job to do, and he was going to do it- even if it was considered fatal.

* * *

James walked into Dumbledore's office, not unused to the casual meetings that the Headmaster had become accustomed to inviting him too. After all, he was the Defense Against the Darks Art's Professor, but James sensed that these meetings were a bit more than just "How are you fairing?" get-togethers. They were too stressed, and they seemed to mark a higher shade of importance to the Headmaster than to the Professor himself; a concept the older Potter boy could not fully comprehend.

As James entered, he noted that Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk with Fawkes perched neatly on a stack of books behind him. Dumbledore stood and extended his hand.

"Good to see you my boy!" He exclaimed, shaking James hand with fervor. He took a seat and motioned for James to do the same.

"How are you, Headmaster?" James asked, taking a seat.

"As good as any day, my boy, preparing for the arrival of the students which is quite soon."

"Yes, that's always been hectic." James agreed.

Dumbledore chuckled.

"Only one year here and you have already adapted to the life of a Professor. Remarkable." Dumbledore said, smiling to himself.

James smiled in return.

"Well," Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together, "down to business James."

James nodded. Dumbledore was not one to keep important issues pending.

"The Order has been picking up some activity from Voldemort; he has been rather dormant this past year which leaves us to believe that he is planning something at large."

Dumbledore eyed James for a moment, then continued.

"From what I could muster from a few, rather dismal I must admit, sources, he has been recruiting many members. Perhaps not as many as he would like, but still very significant compared to our numbers."

James nodded; he had suspected something of this nature. He cut quickly to the chase.

"Where do I fall in, Sir?" Dumbledore did not miss a beat in reply.

"I have been considering who would be likely candidates for recruiting, and unfortunately your brother has crossed my mind." Dumbledore stated, staring James.

He did not even bat an eyelash.

Instead he looked intrigued.

"What exactly would you like me to do about him Sir?"

Dumbledore's eyes glistened maliciously; he let but a minute pass before replying slowly-

"Well James, I was rather hoping that you would do me the honor of….exterminating…your brother."

* * *

After what felt to be an hour, two Death Eaters appeared, one with a piece of parchment and another with only his wand. At their appearance everyone, save Harry and Regulus, stood rigid and still, watching them nervously.

"I," said the important looking Death Eater with the parchment "will call each and every one of you individually. When your name is called you will approach Dirk, over here, and walk with him past this door. He will escort you to your designated room and from then on it is only you and your wand."

No one moved an inch.

"Alright then, first, Severus Snape."

The greasy haired man hesitated then, quickly, darted to the Death Eater named Dirk. The couple walked to a door adjacent to wall across from Harry, and vanished.

In an instant Dirk was standing by the other Death Eater.

Harry watched as an unknown Death Eater was called to the front and turned to Regulus who had been doing the same.

"Fancy seeing Lucius here."

Regulus rolled his eyes.

"Your train of thoughts amuse me. We're about to face what will no doubt be a difficult challenge and all you think about is watching the blonde squirm below you."

Harry chuckled.

"I bet you know a thing or two about him squirming below?"

"That was before Remus- besides you had a nice portion of the Malfoy banquet if I recall correctly."

"That is true."

"And you said yourself it was nothing out of the ordinary."

"True," Harry said, eyes glazing over, "but I do feel like having a blonde tonight."

Regulus turned to him, interested.

"Why so inspired?"

Harry smirked.

"Because I like a challenge." Regulus frowned, he knew Harry did not mean Lucius; he was too easy to get. He wondered at his friend's statement, but shrugged it off for later.

"Elaborate…?"

"Later."

One by one the recently made Death Eaters were called. Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Lucius, and a few others were summoned before the pair heard their names.

Finally…

"Regulus Black."

Regulus stood up from his chair.

"Have fun." Harry said.

"I will." Regulus replied. They exchanged smiles and soon Regulus joined Dirk and, as the other did, walked past the mysterious door.

When Dirk returned, the Death Eater with the parchment pointed his wand to the worn paper, muttered a spell and watched as flames consumed it. Harry sat in his chair, waiting patiently. The Death Eaters turned to him.

"The Dark Lord has special orders for you." said the unnamed Death Eater. He beckoned for Harry to come and walked to a nearby bookcase. When Harry joined him he spoke.

"Behind this bookcase you'll meet your challenge." Dirk chuckled darkly whilst the unnamed Death Eater grinned. Obviously he had said this in order to rouse fear in the man, however his statement had no effect on him.

"Figures." was all he replied, shrugging his shoulders. Without lagging behind for more small talk, he walked straight into the bookcase, fast enough to surprise the Death Eaters but still with enough time to see the surprised looks on their faces. It made him laugh.

What he saw when he passed the bookcase, though, cut his laughter immediately.

* * *

Remus was promptly smacked in the face by a leeward branch.

"Damn trees," he muttered, caressing his cheek where the branch did the most damage. He had been ducking from tree branches and jumping away from remarkably thick tree roots throughout his entire journey. Nonetheless, it did not stop him from tripping and falling and eventually cutting and bruising himself. He knew he looked worse for wear, his hair was a mess and his body had little cuts and scraps as well as smudges of dirt, but he still carried on.

He saw a distant light at the end of the mass of trees, and knew that his long journey was fast approaching its end. He was nearing Fenrir Greyback's pack grounds.

He held his breath; he knew that the moment he stepped out of the forest, he would be walking into the wolves' den.

Alone.

* * *

Standing before Harry was his brother- James.

And he was laughing.

And lying at his feet was a clearly dead Regulus.

Harry knew this day would come.

* * *

Remus noticed the eerie silence that melted into the atmosphere. It was strange that no one at that time was in the camp; from prior experience Remus knew fully well that it was too late for hunting but much too early for bed.

And besides, there was always one watch guard outside.

He gave one last cautious look around- there was a few tents set up at each end of the clearing within the woods. The still burning fire lay right in the midst of it. Softly, Remus tip toed his way across the camp. His ears were pricked, ready for any sudden movement, or noise that may suddenly spring out from the darkness.

Nothing happened.

Nothing at all.

His suspicions were raised and his senses were on high alert now. It just could not be possible that there were no werewolves in this area.

And he was right.

A pair of hands grabbed him from behind and brought him to the ground.

* * *

_Hogwarts 1973_

_A small lithe figure emerges from the darkness of a nearby hallway, it is obviously dark and there seems to be no one in sight. The boy trudges on, where he seems to be going is undecipherable, but by the determined motions of his legs, he appears to be on a mission._

_Suddenly a larger, more masculine boy appears from the darkness of the same hallway, he seems to be following the boy, his intent malicious._

_The larger boy begins to scramble for something beneath his cloak- the smaller boy is visibly farther from the boy- he takes out what is perhaps a wand, mutters a silencing spell, and then an incomprehensible word. Red jet streaks burst from his wand towards the other boy._

_The boy did not even have time to turn around- the red streaks shot him squarely on the back and he was on the floor in a split of a second._

_The younger boy begins to scream._

_The larger one laughs._

* * *

_Hogwarts 1975_

_A young man sits by the Hogwarts Lake, apparently lost in thought. His green eyes are flashing with light; it is obvious that his mind is at work. Behind him voices can be heard arguing- two distinct voices that this boy knows only too well._

"_Listen Potter, I won't go out with you, I've told you one too many times and I'll tell you again, no!" Yells a female voice. The green eyed boy, who is sitting behind a tree and thus out of sight, smirks._

"_Come on Evans! Just once, go out with me, you'll enjoy it more than you think." What first was a plea becomes a jovial tone._

"_You are a disgusting, vile excuse for a human being Potter. The answer is no, and if you don't leave me alone within the next two seconds I swear I will hex you into oblivion!" _

_The threat, having significant backing, results in a muttered "Fine" from the Potter boy and a sigh of relief from the girl. James, now walking back to the castle, is within the green eyed boy's view momentarily before James finally enters the castle. Smirk still planted in place, the green eyed boy stands. He walks around the tree and meets the stare of the pretty, red haired girl._

_When she recognizes who it is, her look of anger immediately evaporates and a genuine smile appears on her face._

"_Well, if it isn't my favorite Potter boy." She says._

_The boy smiles and wraps the girl in his arms._

_They kiss._

* * *

_Hogwarts 1977_

_A young couple is walking quickly down a hall- the fiery red haired is crying whilst the handsome onyx haired boy is trying to calm her down._

_It doesn't seem to be working._

"_Come on Lily, I'm not asking for much, just go on one date with him!"_

_The girl ignores him and continues to walk away, the boy roles his eyes and walks faster._

"_Lily I'm not saying fall in love with the bo- man!"_

_She does not reply, the boy, now frustrated, grabs her arm and pushes her against the wall, roughly._

"_Lily, I'm doing this too please him. He's noticed the way I look at you and you know what hell it'll bring to me if my parents find out I'm dating you, the favorite's long time crush."_

_Lily sniffles a bit, her face looks cross._

"_Is this some sick way of trying to break up with me easily?"_

"_What? No!" the boy looks sincere._

"_Come of it, no one knows we're in a relationship, there has to be another reason-"_

"_There is no other reason!" the boy cuts in, "After I graduate I'll make our relationship public, I swear."_

_This seems to cheer the girl up a bit, her face is still reddened but tears are no longer forming._

_She smiled._

"_Alright Harry, I'll do it. I trust you."_

* * *

_Shrieking Shack 1977_

_An unconscious girl is lying on the dirty floor, a man, tall and bulky from muscle is lying on the ground, fully aware of everything but unable to move or utter a sound. A tall, slim, beautiful man is standing before him, a twisted look of loathing and pleasure on his face._

_He looks pleased._

_"It's been a while, hasn't it James?" James cannot answer, his eyes, however, portray a look of deep disgust._

_"We haven't been together like this in years…minus her of course." He addresses the girl with a nod of his head._

_"You know…" he says after a moment, "I had always found it to be so funny that she loved me. Granted the feelings were never reciprocated, but it was so interesting to see her love me…fight for me…worship the ground I walked on."_

_James remains silent and still, this seems to bore the other man but he continues._

_"And when I fooled her into dating you, my goodness, it was just too much to bear. She would come to my bedroom at night and wish for me to end it; she couldn't bear to kiss you- nothing like me." __Thhe sihe smoihe HE he __He smirked. _

_"But I think the most fun I got out of all of this, was watching you fall in love with her. I knew you loved her from the beginning, but watching your love grow from her feigned affections was simply hilarious." He paces the floor. _

"_So now, all I have left is too take away the one who you love the most." He gazes down at her body, a look of sadness only just appearing on his face._

_With a swish of his wand, the girl is awake, her eyes flutter open. At first she looks around, calmly, then she becomes confused and, once seeing the dark look on the mans face, frightened._

"_Harry? What are you doing?"_

_He ignores her and turns to James._

"_It's such a pity really, she was so good at charms."_

"_Harry?"_

"_Before I kill her James, I just want you to know that every spell I aim at her will be nothing compared to what I have in store for you…once I finish her off."_

_Now he turns to her, with a smile so malicious it makes her shiver._

"_Harry?" she repeats._

"_Crucio."_

_She screams._

* * *

Harry gazed at his brother curiously, something was off.

His brother was standing before him, smirking, with Regulus' dead body right beneath him.

That didn't seem right though.

As his brother slowly stepped towards him, wand raised, Harry realized the misjudgment he had made and almost laughed.

Of course.

With one swift movement of his hand, James, now turned dead boggart, lied sprawled on the floor.

Just Harry and the boggart.

* * *

James Potter sat silently, contemplating what Dumbledore had just said.

"_I want you to…exterminate…your brother…"_

That was something he had wanted to do for quite some time.

James was considered to be the most successful of the Potter's sons. Up to this point in time he had lived a healthy, good life doing his duty as a member of the wizarding world in fighting amongst the "Light" against Voldemort's forces. He had been well liked as a teenager and even more liked as an adult school teacher, he was generally a prospering person.

But he had one weakness.

His brother.

Harry had always been one step ahead of him. He was smarter, James could not deny that, and very bloodthirsty on his behalf. He knew what James thought before James knew himself and could read his emotions like an open book. Harry had spent years observing his brother in school, when the attention was diverted from him, and James knew that-especially what happened after sixth year- Harry was well aware of his weaknesses.

James knew that if were to go after his brother, with Regulus Black as his second and Voldemort hovering over his shoulder-well, he would need quite some help.

James voiced his thoughts.

"Sir, how can I possibly do that? If he is a Death Eater he will have Voldemort's forces behind him, wouldn't he? And the amount of spies surrounding the wizarding world would put me down tremendously. He would know I am after him."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"My boy, you need not worry. You will not be alone in this endeavor. I have asked for the helped of a certain…ah- creature, who would be more than willing to help get rid of your brother."

"But why my specifically my brother? And who?"

Dumbledore shook his head

"I have reason to believe that Voldemort is highly interested in your brother, James. He has talents not even you know of and friends that are powerful in places you cannot reach."

"Even more of a reason to be careful." James scoffed.

"Do not worry I have employed the best man for the job."

"Who?" James repeated, slightly more interested now.

Dumbledore leaned across his desk, urging James forward, and whispered the name into his ear.

* * *

Remus kicked and shouted as he was dragged along the ground, but to no avail.

He knew that as an outcast of the pack he gave the captors all the more reason to take him brutally but couldn't a simple hello suffice?

As he kicked his foot hit a stray tree root, sending a sharp pain up his leg.

Apparently not.

He was led by two men into a stray area of the forest. It did not take long for them to reach their designated spot and carelessly throw him to the ground. Remus stood up at once and shook himself off. He was surrounded by males and females of the most feral kind, but his attention was not on them. It was on the dark grey eyes of Fenrir Greyback.

His former pack leader.

* * *

Voldemort was very intrigued with this boy.

He had watched as the man lightly completed his actions. Granted, the man took a moment or two to access the situation and clear his mind of thought- thought's which Voldemort found very intriguing- but on the whole, he had done far better than any Death Eater he had in his ranks.

Voldemort was pleased.

He emerged from the darkness; it was time to have a little chat.

"Well done _Harry_." Harry lifted his head slowly, and quirked his eyebrow at the Dark Lords sudden appearance. He had a feeling he would have an encounter such as this. He smirked.

"Why, thank you" He replied, looking at him pleasantly amused.

"My question though, is, why your brother?" Harry stared, he knew without a seconds thought that Voldemort already knew the answer. It irked him that he could read his thought's so easily- a challenge for most wizards, even the greatest of them all.

He answered anyway.

"It was mostly shock at first, I hadn't seen him in so long and he was the last person I expected to see here."

The Dark Lord look interested.

"But you must have feared him, boggarts do not react to shock, they react to fear."

"Well," Harry said scrutinizing his face, "when I was younger I feared him, or better said I was angered by his obvious power over me and knew that if I dealt with him seriously, if I actually attacked him back, he would not stop to get his proper revenge."

Voldemort gazed at his eyes and move forward meeting the man only a foot or two apart. He remained silent, waiting.

"I extracted my revenge, and now I'm waiting for him to return the favor."

Stillness dominated the room for a prolonged period of time. They both knew that this confession meant more to them than they could either comprehend.

"You should not fear him." Voldemort finally stated. His powerful voice shook the silence; it almost seemed unnatural in this dim, lonely room.

"I do not fear him anymore- I simply want to get rid of him."

Voldemort looked at him and nodded.

He apparated without another word.

* * *

James walked quickly out of Dumbledore's office, a smile dancing on his lips. He walked with a new confidence over to his chambers, noting nothing but the sudden change his life was about to experience.

He was going too finally get rid of his damn little brother.

And he was going to enjoy it.

* * *

Fenrir stared at Remus, his eyes cold and merciless; Remus could not and would not hold his glare, Fenrir was the Alpha after all.

And it made him uncomfortable.

"What is your business here Lupin?" Greyback growled.

Remus looked up.

"It is about Harry, Greyback. Recently he's been going off to places I'm not even sure of-

"What" Fenrir practically barked, "makes you think that you have authority over him?"

No one spoke. Remus had stepped on precarious territory. Everyone in the pack knew that any word against Harry Potter was a death wish in itself.

Remus shook his head- he was in for it.

"No, you misunderstand. Harry and my….mate have been going off to places without a hint of telling me where they are going. I know Harry can protect himself but I'm worried over my mate."

Fenrir stared at him. He did not see where in hell this involved him.

"And?"

"Well," Remus paused, he was far too nervous for his own good, "I thought, well, Harry is your friend so he may tell you."

"Ah. I see." Fenrir replied. "You thought I would tell you business you have no right to hear."

Remus' eyes looked vicious now, fear or no fear.

"I do have a right!" Remus yelled, he received a growl from every corner, he ignored it.

"It involves my mate." He said, a bit sifter but with emphasis.

Fenrir growled.

"Listen Lupin, if you can't control your damn bitch, then that's your problem. Harry indulges me in whatever he wants me to know, but if he doesn't tell you, well that's your problem. And if your mate won't tell you, tough shit."

Remus stared. He knew this was an extremely unlikely possibility, he knew asking Fenrir about this subject may in fact take him no where, but the utter humiliation his words caused him made him angrier than he was before.

Because, next to this man, Remus was weak.

He had proved it once before, and now he was proving it once again.

"Now leave before I make matters more difficult for you," Fenrir said, his voice low and menacing, "I can't stand the smell of a traitor."

With that Remus stood and walked quickly back into the forest, heart pounding and head beginning to ache.

* * *

Harry apparated outside of Grimmauld Place and walked steadily up the stairs. He heard a noise from the kitchen and saw Kreacher, the house elf, preparing dinner for the household. Regulus was sitting at the table, skimming through a book.

Harry sat beside him.

"How did it go?" Harry asked. Regulus looked up.

"Pretty well, if I do say so myself." Harry chuckled.

"Oh yeah, what was it then?"

Regulus' face darkened.

"Remus….dead." Harry nodded, he thought it would involve Remus.

"How did you handle it?"

Regulus shrugged.

"I thought of the mad sex we had this morning, muttered _Ridikkulus,_ and saw Remus naked and turned on." Harry laughed.

"How about you?" Regulus asked, Kreacher finished cooking and settled their dinner before them.

"Would the masters be wanting anything else?" the obedient elf asked.

"No thank you Kreacher, just save some for Remus and Sirius for their return." Regulus replied. The elf bowed and did as he was told. The two men continued their conversation.

"James, but only for a moment. After the shock went away I killed it"

Regulus raised an eyebrow.

"You have always been loose with the killing curse, if I recall correctly." Regulus said, taking a bite from his dinner.

"When it comes to James, definitely."

"You'll get your opportunity, don't go looking for trouble, not now, when we're so close to achieving our goals."

"No," Harry replied. "I suppose you're right."

He began to eat his dinner as well, Regulus paused, looking thoughtful, a grin appearing on his face.

"What happened to Malfoy? I thought you were going to grace our home with his presence." Harry looked up, bewildered, then, remembering, laughed.

"You were right, he's too easy. I'm tired of winning easy games, I need a challenge, and a good challenge at that."

"I have a few people in mind." Regulus winked.

Harry smiled.

"I'm sure you do, but the one's I have in mind are much more interesting than yours, I'm sure."

* * *

Remus entered the house, sweaty, shaken, and more than a little bit angry.

He needed a drink.

Badly.

He found Harry and Regulus eating dinner when he arrived, whispering to each other; it irked him.

"Well hello there!" Regulus said, smiling at him. Remus simply turned his head away and walked up the stairs.

Regulus followed quickly behind.

"What happened?" Remus headed for the bath and began filling it with water. Hot-as hell-water.

"I don't feel like talking." Remus muttered, watching the steam roll into the air, smoothly licking his skin.

"Well that's too bad, because I'll pester you until you tell me what is going on." He said in jest.

"Well the roles are switched now aren't they? I've pestered you with no answers and now you're pestering me. And trust me, you'll get no answers."

Regulus was taken aback.

"What do you-"

"You know exactly what I mean! I've been after you to tell me what you're up too and you just shun me away like it means nothing. You go off to Merlin-knows-where and return looking elated. What bother's me is that you never tell me exactly what you're up too! We haven't spent any amount of time together in the past few weeks and when I do try to have you to myself for just one moment you go off with the excuse that you're too busy but you'll see me at night. For that I rather you just pay me like a whore and tell me you don't want anything anymore."

"Listen Remus I couldn't tell you even if I wanted too! Harry and I are dabbling in things that you cannot know of right now! I would tell you-"

"No! If you won't tell me what the matter is then I'll just….you know what? I'm leaving."

"What? You are being extremely irrational Remus"

Remus ignored him.

"I'm going to my apartment, when you want to enlighten me just go by." And with that he was gone with a pop.

Regulus was left alone, with a steaming hot tub inviting him in.

* * *

Harry was reading in the library when Regulus walked in on him, disquieted and vexed.

"I heard the shouting, what happened?" Harry said instantly, putting his book down.

"Remus is angry because I haven't told him what we're up too."

Harry scoffed.

"A bit possessive, your mate is isn't he?" Remus did not laugh.

"To him it's more than that, it's a matter of trust and"

"Jealousy." Harry finished

Remus sighed.

"Look," Harry said, "he's been jealous of our friendship since he met you. I know, in the back of his mind, he believes you'll just leave him for me. Now that he see's you spending even _more_ time with me he thinks that it is a sure sign of you leaving him."

Regulus rolled his eyes.

"Ignorant fool."

"Yes, which is why I wonder why you chose him over me?"

Regulus' eye's widened.

"Excuse me?"

Harry looked very serious.

"I've always loved you Regulus. Why do you think I go after Sirius back and forth? It is my sick way of compensating for the thing I don't have…you."

Regulus had a look of confusion and caution.

"Harry, you know I can't believe that is true."

Harry lowered his eyes, his countenance grew crestfallen.

"You would never believe that truth."

Regulus stepped closer to him. Harry lowered his head, making his hair fall over his eyes, and, for a moment, Regulus believed him to be crying.

"Harry?"

Harry's head jerked up, his face was unmistakably happy, his mouth open in mirth.

"You are so gullible!" Harry said, laughing. Regulus looked annoyed.

"Harry, that was not right." He said, although chuckling a bit himself.

"I swear Potter," Regulus said as he sat down in the chair across from his friend, "you'll be the death of me."

Harry smiled.

"Perhaps I will, but until them, you enjoy this."

* * *

Alright! So just so you know this was the most annoying chapter I've ever had to write in the history of writing. I really hate this chapter, to me it was no fun, whatsoever, but the next one will be.

If you guys didn't like it, I apologize, neither did I. It's a moving-the-plot-along type of chapter and also a bit of a revealing chapter. I wanted to also show the relationship between Regulus and Harry, at least the fun side of it. Their relationship can get very dark so, prepare for that.

I'm really sorry if there were any spelling mistakes or errors that were troublesome. I honestly just wanted to post this up so I could get to the more interesting chapters.

Also, just in case there was any confusion, I want to clarify that the captions I put do not neccessarily have to do with Harry and Voldemort alone. They also apply to other characters. One caption may be about Remus/ Regulus or Harry/Fenrir or about anyone else I mention. These captions also may include things that happened in other chapters. They are there to pinpoint the important themes that are within that chapter but may apply to other chapters as well. Just to let you know :)

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and, as always, please review!

~prongs-risque


End file.
